


Origins

by ead13



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alienage politics, Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Violence, being a casteless dwarf is the worst, is it bad how happy killing Vaughan made me?, tragedy with a glimmer of hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 08:30:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16059368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ead13/pseuds/ead13
Summary: The first time I played DA Origins, I couldn't get over how wonderfully horrible my Dwarf Commoner's backstory was. I've finally started a second character, and found it just as wonderfully horrible. So much pain just needed an outlet, so I want to put together little vignettes of each Origin story. Read for the ones you enjoyed, or read them all and get into each possible Warden's head.





	1. Natia Brosca

**Author's Note:**

> So, I always try to go against the flow and chose to be a dwarf commoner on my first play through. I was stunned by the emotional angst of the prologue. I mean, I'd heard that every story had its tragedy, but seriously, the life of a casteless dwarf is so horrible that being taken from home and forced to fight life-or-death battles is actually a BLESSING. That is ridiculous! I wrote this in an attempt to wrap my head around what Natia Brosca must have been thinking.

Natia had no idea just how far this hideout stretched; despite all her years of service, all the shady places her job had taken her, she did not recognize these earthen tunnels, lined with storerooms and luminescent crystals. Leske wasn’t any more knowledgeable than she was. Of course, it didn’t surprise her that Beraht had secret hideaways even they had never laid eyes on. The man didn’t get to be the head of a powerful crime syndicate by sharing all his information with a smart-mouthed, loose-cannon underling like her. He wasn’t just an asshole but a conniving weasel besides. He was several other things as well, but there was no time to dwell on unhappy thoughts like that. There were enough already filling her head.

However long the distance truly was, it felt even longer still as she fought down wave after wave of anxiety, the thought of any harm befalling her sister driving her forward in a sprint. Beraht had alluded to it before sending her off on that failed mission, and Natia knew that both he and his bed-warming lieutenant were sick fucks who would do something horrible nonchalantly, even to a helpless girl like Rica. Even though they were all casteless and should have been looking out for each other rather than crushing each other in a mad quest to get ahead. Even though Rica was his best chance to get the one thing he could never achieve on his own: a ticket out of Dust Town. As much as he had invested in training and outfitting her, even he had to know she would never comply once he killed the one person she held dear. And death was guaranteed for her now as all her bridges burned behind her.

Though the passages seemed never-ending, there was only one way to go. She and Leske pressed on, completely lacking in any subtlety as they routed every single thug Beraht had guarding them and hastily looted their corpses. She was able to get into some slightly higher quality armor than her rough Duster leathers, and the mace she had acquired suited her fighting style much better than the flimsy dagger she had started with. All the better to bash his skull in, she thought grimly. The pair just picked up momentum as they went.

Finally, they came to a set of doors. The ones on the right and left were both locked, and from behind the middle they could hear a few male voices. One in particular made her skin crawl. Beraht. “And if that freak of a sister of hers can’t keep in her place, I don’t need precious Rica either.” 

“Rica? That the one you got all done up in lace? I’ve been wanting to get my hands on that…” 

“Heh, I know what you mean…”

Natia gripped the handle of her mace tighter as a wave of nausea overwhelmed her. The bastards… talking about her sister like she was something to own, to take without asking, like she was the piece of choice meat in the market that men wish to sample. They were going to break her and treat it like some kind of fun diversion, and all the while she would simply lie there and take it without fighting back because that was the only way she knew to survive in hell. It took all her restraint and Leske’s wide, pleading eyes to keep her from barging in and beginning the slaughter. The only consolation was that she knew Rica was alive and at that point unharmed. She could still stop them… 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Beraht’s snort. His next words sealed his fate. “She’s yours if you want her, boys. And let me tell you, it tastes as good as it looks.” 

The world seemed to stop as white hot rage and adrenaline flooded her veins. She could scarcely breathe as every muscle clenched. One thought beat through her head a million miles an hour: that monster had raped her sister. Before anyone knew what was happening, the door slammed open, nearly coming off its hinges from the force. She lunged, not even caring that Beraht was accompanied by two other armed men. Oh, how she’d wanted this for a long time. Even now as she swung, she could vaguely hear him calling her ‘it’. That was all she and Rica and countless others were to him. Investments, not people, but something to gamble with, something to remove when they became cumbersome. And apparently something to fuck when he felt like it, always holding something over their heads to keep them in line. Well not this time. Natia was going to die either way, Rica was in trouble either way, and Beraht should never have underestimated someone with nothing in the world to lose. He was a dead man.

As could be expected from someone who bested Orzamarr’s finest fighters in the Proving, the fight was barely a fight at all. Beraht held power through manipulation, not prowess in battle, and having reduced her to an object, he ignored the potent emotions that fueled her blows. She would have reduced his body to pulp if there hadn’t been the two armed guards as well. Good ol’ Leske had followed right behind her and held them off while she took care of her personal business, and she didn’t keep him waiting long. They were no better than Beraht and would meet a similar fate.

While they didn’t go down quite as easily as their boss, they were still quickly dispatched. That left Natia and Leske to stare at the bodies, soaking in the situation. Soon Leske was babbling, extolling the Stone, crowing about her skill in battle and the way Beraht had finally met his end. She was only half listening though. She glowered at their corpses through half-closed lids, still thinking very dark thoughts. Even though vengeance had been as necessary as breathing at the time, the high was wearing off fast, leaving her with only a hopeless realization: this had not solved all their problems. Leske may think so, but he was short-sighted. There were plenty just like them. Unless that suitor proved to be more than a passing interest, Rica would be on her own and the remaining demons of Dust Town would prey on her. Natia didn’t have a hope in the world of escaping the city alive after all, so no one would be there to protect her. At that thought, a deeper horror soaked in: Not that I’ve protected her so far.

A strangled sob wracked her body as she sank to her knees before her enemies’ corpses. Rica had lost her dignity, and that could never be recovered. Even worse, she hadn’t been able to stop it from happening. No, that wasn’t the worst, the worst was that Rica wouldn’t even tell her what was going on, so how could she have known? But at the same time, she knew why Rica wouldn’t say anything… The thoughts seemed to tangle themselves in her mind until she didn’t even know why she was so upset.

“Uh, Natia?” Leske ventured uneasily, standing behind her. “Aren’t we supposed to be happy right now?” It was no wonder he sounded nervous; in all his years, he had never seen her cry. And there had been plenty to cry about. This moment of triumph would be swallowed up soon.

And that gave her a moment of clarity. There was always so much to cry about, so many reasons to give in to despair but she had always stubbornly fought against them. And what was the cause of all the smaller things, the way Rica had to offer her body to nobles who would never love her, the way Beraht held a leash on everyone in the organization, the way Jarvia rubbed her status in everyone’s faces, the way her mother’s brain was rotting from mosswine, right down to the way the citizens of Orzamarr spat at her as she walked through the commons? Being casteless, bearing the brand. She had always tried to defy her fate, but there she was, being led along that path just the same as if she had never fought at all. The path that led to the slaughter. It was hopeless.

With a roar of rage, she reached down and ripped Beraht’s specially-made protective belt from his waist. “I’m just fucking wonderful!” She clasped the belt around her own waist. If she was going to die, she’d bring this trophy with her, a sign that at least she had been able to defeat one source of her misery instead of rolling over. “Grab whatever you can from these guys; looks like you’ll be out of a job for a while, and the money won’t hurt. In fact, take these things I’ve collected. It’s not like I’m going to need them any more…”

“Natia, what are you saying?” he stared incredulously. “You’re not caught yet. You could still make it out in the confusion if…”

“Leske,” she said, suddenly showing more patience than normal. She didn’t want their last exchange to be an argument, after all. “They will be heavily guarding the exit to the surface. I suppose I could go to the Deeproads and die fighting a Darkspawn or something noble like that. Bet the Warden would approve… Either way, I’m going to be dead real soon here. I want you to take this stuff…”

He reached out to take the couple of bows, shields, and apparel they had accumulated during their rampage. The flashy ring caught him off guard. “Even this?” he stared.

“Especially that. Think of me when you wear it,” she smiled sadly, turning away. “And make sure if Rica doesn’t hit it off with that guy that you use some of the money to take care of her and mother until it runs out. Promise me, Leske? You’re the only other one I count on.”

“Yeah, right,” he mumbled, looking dejected.

“Now, let’s get out of here and face destiny.”

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Almost as soon as the door to Beraht’s shop swung open, an urgent voice could be heard above the rabble. “There they are! Seize the fugitives!”

Blinking, they noticed the tournament head approach with a disapproving glare, surrounded by several of the guard. “Drop your weapons and walk down slowly. We will use force if you resist.” For Leske, the choice to obey was easy; he hadn’t been the one impersonating a warrior, using weapons and armor above his station, or polluting the arena, so there was a chance he’d escape this with his life. But for Natia, the choice was not so obvious. Even after her epiphany, her spirit was not content to go down quietly. Perhaps if she fought back, took out several guards before being killed, she could make a statement. Maybe others in Dust Town would see what she did and start to realize they had the power to rise up as well. Then again, they could all be like submissive Rica, shake their heads at her insane ploy, and go back to being miserable in order to preserve their meaningless lives.

She didn’t get to make the decision. Right behind the guard marched none other than Grey Warden Duncan, followed by her concerned-looking sister. Looked like fighting was no longer an option. All she could do now before being led away was go out with some dignity in front of those two very important people.

“You could thank us, being that we killed Beraht,” she tilted her chin in pride.

This had the desired result, as the tournament head fumbled his accusations for a moment. Leske followed her lead. “He would have butchered us if we wouldn’t have killed him first!”

And better yet, Duncan went right along with it. “Your friend has once again demonstrated great courage.” He didn’t stop there, and suddenly her façade came crashing down as his next words forever changed her life: “We Grey Wardens travel far and wide in search of those with the potential to join our ranks. It seems we have found one.”

“W-what are you saying?” she stared, unable to comprehend the new path that suddenly opened to her. A path she had only ever dreamed of.

“Let me make my offer formal. I, Duncan of the Grey Wardens, extend my invitation for you to join our order.”

Naturally, this did not please the warriors before her. “This woman is wanted for treason! You can’t do this!” He was nearly throwing a fit. Her breath was trapped in her chest. Was the Warden truly able to offer this to her given the situation?

His voice was calm but resolute in contrast, and made all the doubts flee her mind. “I can, and I am.” He turned to address her specifically. “It would mean traveling to the surface lands and leaving your people, but it does offer you a chance to strike a blow to the Darkspawn and the Blight.”

Sod the Darkspawn, it offered her a chance at freedom! And that was besides offering her a chance to survive this day… She cleared her throat nervously. “Is there a catch?”

“While this is no trick, it is a dangerous life. I can promise you no guarantee of safety. I can also give you nothing in return for these hazards. In joining me, you leave all you know behind.”

Couldn't he see it? Leaving all of this behind was the best thing that could ever happen to her, danger or not! “I accept!” she stated quickly, as if hurrying before the offer was retracted.

“Then before these witnesses I hereby recruit you into the Grey Wardens. Know that you are most welcome.” At his words, a huge smile shone across her face. It really was happening.

“This is highly irregular,” the tournament head whined. “The warrior families will be most upset…”

Leske cut him off, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Look at you, you duster. A Warden! And to think I knew you when you were stealing bread…”

“We must be off to meet the King of Ferelden, and quickly.” Duncan cleared his throat, eager to resume his control over the solemn occasion. “Do you have any goodbyes to make?”

“Just one, sir.” She craned her neck to gaze past the towering human and to the petite, proper form of her older sister. She was, of course, too polite to push her way to the front of the crowd.

“Then do so with haste.”

“Of course.” Natia had always been unafraid of standing up for herself, and was certainly not afraid to push through the gawkers to get to Rica, never letting her eyes leave her sister. This might very well be the last time she’d see her. “Rica…”

Before she could continue, Rica held up her left hand, and a metal band on her ring finger glimmered in the light of the torches. She smiled shyly. “He’s keeping me.”

Natia was overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. How she hated that her elder sister could only offer up her body to a rich noble in exchange for protection, living a life devoid of love. That was the curse of their brand, their caste. The bastard who had essentially purchased her had better not abuse her further than the degradation the entire ordeal brought to her sister, to which her sister had long since grown immune. Despite how she hated the thought, she had to grudgingly admit that it gave her a sense of relief. She would no longer need to worry about what would befall Rica without her around, and without Beraht’s twisted form of patronage. She could leave for the surface without any regrets or fears.

Natia threw her arms around her sister, holding her close one last time. “Then I can leave, fully at peace. Just don’t let him hurt you, Rica. Even if I never see you again, you will always be my sister, and I would never stand for that.”

“Natia, I can’t believe this is happening…”

“That makes two of us!”

Rica gave a quiet laugh. “I will miss you more than you can ever know, but more than that I’m happy for you. You’ve hated being bound to this life, and finally you have the chance to escape and be the person you want to be. I can be at peace as well knowing that. Take care, sister.” She gave a final squeeze, then pulled away. “I’ll pass the news along to mom.”

Natia snorted. “Right, whenever she’s sober. Wonder what she’ll think of this development?”

“She’ll say ‘good for her’, then probably use it as an excuse for another bottle.”

The girls were interrupted when Duncan once again cleared his throat loudly. When they turned to look, they saw his apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, I know this is important, but we really must be leaving.”

“Right.” Natia smiled sadly at her sister. “Goodbye, Rica. I won’t be looking back.”

“No need. I understand. Perhaps we’ll meet again someday, and if not, then I’ll rejoin you in The Stone.”

Natia didn’t have the heart to remind her that once she left for the surface, she would not be able to rejoin the Stone. Their separation might be permanent. That was a thought even she couldn’t bear, so she turned away and walked towards Duncan. Towards the Wardens. To a new life.


	2. Kallian Tabris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, I was actually yelling "You are a dead man!" at my tv every time Vaughan opened his mouth. Here I thought Natia's story was like the worst of the worst, but this origin comes pretty close.

She’d spent her whole life fighting back the fire in her veins, the fire that had been her mother’s gift to her. She fought against it, because it had been what killed her mother, and her father always made that very clear. Just try to get along, appease the shems and don’t pick fights, because in the end any fight an elf can pick with a human they will lose. Even though she resented the shems for how they treated her people, Kallian heeded her father’s words. Perhaps she didn’t always agree with him, but after losing his wife to human violence, she certainly couldn’t blame him for his caution. In the end, she came to wield words just as well as the daggers her mother had trained her in.

It was always a difficult balancing act, though, struggling to do the best thing even when the injustice of a situation made her burn with resentment and anger. Her one cousin, Soris, always irked her with how quickly he’d lie down and submit. He was a nice guy, but had no pride. She wondered what he would do if she were ever in trouble. Probably apologize profusely to the enemy and beg for mercy. Weak-willed Soris represented everything that was wrong with her people, as they eked out a living under the heel of the humans and tolerated far too many crimes against them without fighting back.

On the other hand, her cousin Shianni had too little control. Her personality matched her flaming red hair, and her words were always sharp and many times ill-chosen. She acted rashly, and even among friends this caused problems. Whenever a shem came into the Alienage, it was collective knowledge that she should be shoved into the nearest building and held there until the incident blew over lest she cause offense. No one would say it, of course, but Kallian knew most elves in her Alienage wondered how long it would be before she got herself killed.

Years passed in this way, with both good times and bad. Kallian kept her daggers and her words honed so she would be prepared for any situation. She only prayed that she would judge the situation correctly and use the appropriate tool.

Everything changed on her wedding day. It wasn’t the wedding itself; Kallian had accepted her arranged marriage as a part of her community’s way of life, and she trusted her father would find someone who would at the very least treat her well. It was the incident that occurred before the ceremony, and everything that happened after the Chantry Sister began the service.

Shianni had been drinking, and in the joyful chaos that preceded the double wedding, no one was keeping an eye on her. When the Arl’s son and his two noble friends marched in demanding whores, nothing kept her in check. Pathetic Soris wanted her to hang back, and hot-headed Shianni was insulting him angrily. What the hell was she supposed to do? She settled on stepping forward and entreating the well-dressed pig, not knowing at the time who he was. She would never know if this would have done any good, because as soon as she had his attention, Shianni came up behind him and knocked him unconscious with an empty bottle. The other two hauled their friend away, making dark threats, and Shianni had sobered quickly as they revealed their identities. Perhaps they wouldn’t mention being taken down by an elven woman, they had all hoped with a nervous laugh.

They couldn’t have been more wrong. As soon as the ceremony started, they returned with a host of armed guards. Vaughan Kendells picked out women like treats in a candy store, and when the Chantry Sister protested in horror, he only smiled sadistically and called them little more than pet vermin. Words were not going to reach this bastard, but in light of the wedding, Kallian was unarmed. Before she could do anything to protect her cousin, Soris’s fiancée and the other chosen “playthings”, she was knocked unconscious.  
This was when things began to shift for both cousins.

Soris, though he had at first been unsure what to do, had been inspired by the words of Kallian’s fiancée and joined him in an effort to storm the Arl’s Palace and break them out. He stayed with his more martially-inclined cousin, using the crossbow the wandering Grey Warden had lent him, and aiding her in soaking the halls of the palace with the blood of every soldier who meant them harm. Though there was no moment to say it as they desperately searched for the rest of the women, she was proud of his new-found courage.

Shianni, in contrast, was brought low, and it was the most painful thing Kallian had ever experienced apart from her mother’s death. When they threw open the door to Vaughan’s quarters, the three men were standing over her, predators trapping injured prey and licking their lips hungrily. Tears stained Shianni’s face, and she trembled violently. Kallian’s quick eyes noted how her fine bridesmaid’s dress had been torn, and instantly she suspected the worst. “Please, I just want to go home…” she whimpered once she realized Kallian had come. She could feel her heart shattering into tiny pieces at this shadow of her cousin, destroyed by that cruel, selfish son of a bitch.

He was a dead man.

Kallian had known this since one of his soldiers had carelessly slain Nola for her simple protest. The rage intensified when she watched her fiancée cut down before her eyes. It was true she hadn’t truly known him, but what little time they’d spent together before everything went wrong, she’d been surprised to find she enjoyed. Even if his kind words meant nothing, he risked his life to come and rescue her, who he hardly knew, while only her cousin had risked the same out of the entire community. She was grieving for Nelaros perhaps without even realizing it. Now, seeing Shianni in such pain and fear, her rage turned all-consuming. Vaughan, that sick bastard, continued to speak to her as if he had any control of the situation at all, always as if he were talking to some lesser being. His arrogance would be his downfall, as he clearly didn’t recognize even after commenting about the blood on her armor just how dangerous she truly was. Kallian thought perhaps he mentioned something about letting them live if they didn’t want the entire Alienage wiped out, but she wasn’t truly listening. She fell on him with the fury of a storm, all her trapped emotions finally combusting at this spark, fueled by that fire in her veins. She hated him with every fiber of her body, and there was no other way to put it.

Vaughan and his two companions lay dead in pools of their own blood, bodies viciously slashed almost beyond recognition.

Soris, to be fair, was struggling to come to terms with what they had done even though he couldn’t say he had any regrets. While he went to free his fiancée and the other surviving woman, Kallian knelt down to check on Shianni.

“I want to go home. So much blood… Are they dead?” she whispered fearfully.

And just like that, the fire had burnt itself out. Kallian took Shianni’s shaking hand in hers and gave a reassuring squeeze. “Not just them, Shianni. Everyone here that hurt you. Soldiers, dog trainers and their precious mabari, even the cook who dared insult an elf with a bloodied blade in her hand. They will feel this, Shianni, and not just because of the Arl’s son and his filthy friends. Now, let’s go home.”

It honestly hurt to return to the alienage with four of the five kidnapped women returned and receive a mixed greeting at best. They were happy, they insisted, that they were safe, but what would happen to them now? She remembered what Soris had said, that these people were willing to let their friends, daughters, sisters, be taken away to be raped, beaten, and quite possibly killed for sport. They would cling to survival, even if it meant selling out each other, even though she had been taught from a young age that family was the most important thing they had. A feeling of disgust formed in the pit of her stomach. No matter how this played out, the entire affair had made one thing very clear: she could not call them her people any longer. She’d come to accept her mother’s legacy, and there was no going back to naïve compromises.

The guards came, of course. It wouldn’t take a scholar to figure out who murdered the Arl’s son and a huge portion of the castle guard. There was no point in playing games. When asked who was responsible, Kallian stepped forward. Let Soris go on living; he seemed to appreciate his bride much more now, and he was the type who could continue to be content despite it all. Meanwhile, her death in trade for the blow she’d struck against the human oppressors seemed well worth it, more so now that she had no idea how she’d go on living as she had. She had to admit respect for the guard, who did not once belittle her or the elder, who admitted his own respect for her courage. She would go without resisting for a man like this.

In the end, it turned out she didn’t have to. The Grey Warden snapped her up with his Rite of Conscription. While her people would shun her for standing against something, he praised her for her willingness to do what must be done, her ability to sheathe her blade when appropriate but to fight brilliantly when needed. Duncan, who she learned had once tried to recruit her mother, now wished to recruit her? In this situation, it seemed there couldn’t be a better outcome.

Quickly, she said her goodbyes. Already she could tell people were uncomfortable with her, and felt even more surely that this was for the best. Soris swore he would take care of his bride, and that they would work to better the Alienage instead of just sailing along. He had grown up. Shianni too insisted that this incident had not broken her, that she would fight for her people, but Kallian could recognize that this statement came with a much graver wisdom than in the past. Shianni had finally experienced what could happen to those who were not careful. She, too, had been changed.

That just left her father. He stood outside the house, looking up absently to the sky, but he knew when she approached, hearing the slam of the door. “This is it, then.”

Kallian stood beside him, still not looking at him. “You have to know, father, I tried for so long to please you, to hold myself back so you would not suffer another loss. I just…wouldn’t have been able to live with myself it I allowed them to take me, to take Shianni and the others. It would have broken me, and you would have lost me either way.”

Cyrion Tabris finally turned his gaze from the sky. She was surprised to see the tears shimmering in his eyes. “I know, Kallian. You are your mother’s daughter, and as much as I advised you against being like her, you must know I loved her very much. And I love you very much.”

“Father…” She threw her arms around him, allowing him to rock her one last time. Hot tears were blotted by his tunic. “I’m sorry…”

“No, my girl, you should also understand that I would have been disappointed in you if you HADN’T tried to save everyone. We take care of each other. I’m only sorry this whole situation forced you to go so far, to earn death for your actions. I owe that Warden Duncan everything for saving you. Who knows, perhaps being out in the world will make you happier, even if it remains difficult for me.”

“I think it’s for the best. But also, father… This probably isn’t important, but I feel like I should tell you anyhow. I liked Nelaros. I was not unhappy in the brief moment we both stood at that altar, and I was so glad to know he came for me, even though it cost him his life. I…wish I could have gotten the chance to grow to love him.” The stream of tears increased, and she shook a little.

“Oh my Kallian,” he soothed, running a hand through her long chestnut tresses. “I wanted only the best husband for you. I didn’t just take money into consideration. It does give me some peace to know I chose well, even if it ended like this. But you are young. Perhaps someday you will meet a nice Warden and fall in love at your own pace. Of course you won’t be able to settle down, but you can be happy, and that’s all I wish for you.” He pulled away and placed a loving kiss on her forehead. “Now go and be free. Show the Wardens your gratitude for giving you a second chance to live. Fight with all the fire your mother gave you, because there is no reason to hold it back any longer.”

Kallian sniffled and wiped her eyes roughly. “I will, father. I will make you both proud.”


End file.
